


Anarchy

by bellarkeshittt



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, jus some bellarke apocalypse drabble cuz thas my FAVE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellarkeshittt/pseuds/bellarkeshittt
Summary: Ever since the world went to shit, Clarke’s had nothing to live for. The only thing she cares about anymore is survival, and even the desire to keep going is slowly fading away.That is, until the day she stumbles upon a fiery girl named Octavia who is set on finding her older brother amidst what’s left of civilization.Maybe—just maybe—she’ll find something worth fighting for. Even if that comes in the form of a total asshole with permanent sex hair and freckles.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> i might write more of this but like sporadically since i’m so inconsistent with everything i do in life
> 
> enjoy!!!

Clarke wasn’t sure where she was going. For some unknown amount of time she had just been walking. She had no destination in mind—in fact, she barely had anything in mind at all. The only thing she had done in the time she had been alone was contemplate whether she should keep going or put a bullet in her brain. She was leaning more towards the latter when she found Octavia.

The girl was leaning over a small fire, huddled up against it in an attempt to stay warm despite the freezing winter. Clarke was so zoned out that she hadn’t even noticed the flickering orange lights through the thick trees until the clearing was right in front of her. She wondered why the girl was so far north and wore only a tank top and a thin pair of leggings. She had dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail that nearly reached the small of her back. The gaze in her hardened eyes was blank as she watched the fire, shaking from the cold. She looked a few years younger than Clarke.

Clarke was conflicted about whether to help the girl or keep going. From what she could tell, the girl didn’t have many supplies, so there wasn’t much she could repay her with if Clarke gave her a jacket.

But then Clarke realized what she was thinking. Had she become so inhuman that at this point she was more concerned with being rewarded for helping people instead of just doing it out of the kindness of her heart?

Yes, actually, she had. But when she took a step to the left to walk past the girl, she stepped right onto a twig, which happened to make the loudest snap Clarke had ever heard, of course.

The dark-haired girl immediately looked up, her body tense in sudden alert. She stood slowly, raising a long and thin sword as she did so. Clarke swallowed as the girl made her way over to where she stood, frozen. Even if she tried to run, the girl looked like she could catch up. She was probably going to kill her either way.

Maybe Clarke wasn’t entirely opposed to that idea.

“Who’s there?” the dark-haired girl called out, her eyes scanning the trees.

Clarke raised her hands and slowly made her way out of the thick trees and into the clearing. The dark-haired girl raised her sword high, ready for combat, but Clarke just stood there.

“What do you want?” the dark-haired girl asked harshly.

“I just saw you out here and you looked cold,” Clarke responded. “I was trying to decide whether to give you a jacket or not. I have an extra.”

The dark-haired girl glanced at the backpack hanging off of Clarke’s right shoulder. She nodded toward it and held out a hand, silently telling Clarke to hand it over. Clarke obliged, and the girl looked through it to find that, indeed, Clarke had an extra jacket other than the one she was wearing. She also had no weapons inside, and none visible on her person. The girl looked at her, still suspicious.

“You can take the one I’m wearing too, if you want,” Clarke offered. “I won’t have much use for it soon.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m tired of a world where I lose everything I care about,” Clarke said monotonously.

The girl stared at her for a second before taking the jacket from Clarke’s bag. “You can keep the one you’re wearing. Who knows, maybe once you’re dead someone will find your body that needs it more than I do.”

Clarke cracked a smile. She had expected the girl to try and convince her not to die. She was glad she didn’t.

“What’s your name?” Clarke asked as the girl sat back down by the fire and put the jacket on.

“Octavia,” she said, watching the fire again.

“Clarke,” Clarke responded.

Octavia nodded and handed Clarke a couple packets of chips. Clarke raised her brows at her.

“There wasn’t any food in your bag,” Octavia explained shortly, and resumed staring at the fire.

An hour later, they put the fire out, climbed a tree, and slept on some sturdy branches. Somehow, though, Clarke slept better than she had in weeks.

•••

“Wake up, we need to move.”

Clarke’s eyes opened to the sound of a stranger’s voice. When she looked up, she saw Octavia, the girl from the night before. Clarke took a few seconds to process what she had said.

“Move?” Clarke asked. “Where?”

“I need to find my brother,” Octavia responded, jumping down from the tree gracefully and packing up the small amount of items she had.

Clarke slowly and awkwardly reached the ground. “And I’m going with you?”

Octavia shot her a look. “Well, if you don’t, you’re just going to go kill yourself somewhere. If you do, you have a reason to live. Your choice.”

Clarke watched Octavia for a few moments. When she was ready to go, she looked at Clarke. “Well?” she asked, brows raised.

Several miles later, the girls stopped to rest for a few moments. They sat on a large rock on the side of the road.

“So,” Clarke began, “who’s this brother you’re looking for? And where exactly are we going to find him?”

“His name’s Bellamy,” Octavia replied, taking a sip of water. “He lived in Pittsburgh before the world ended or whatever. It’s less than 50 miles away.”

“What makes you so sure he’s still there?”

Octavia looked out at the open fields across the road. “He’ll be there,” she responded, sounding certain.

So they walked another 25 miles, to Clarke’s dismay. Octavia was in great shape, with toned muscles all over, while Clarke hadn’t exercised before the war broke out and the world went to shit. 

After a full day of walking, sunrise to sunset, they stopped again. And when Clarke was awoken the next morning, it was barely light outside, and Octavia practically had to drag her off of the ground. But on they went, only a day away from Pittsburgh.

About halfway through the day, when the sun finally came out from behind the grey clouds and the temperature rose above 50 degrees fahrenheit, they ran into a group of men twice their ages.

“Just keep walking,” Octavia said quietly when the two groups spotted each other walking opposite directions, “and don’t make eye contact. We’re not going to fight unless we have to.”

Nonetheless, Octavia handed her two daggers. Clarke swallowed. It had been a while since she had to fight someone. She didn’t like the memories it brought up.

The men, upon seeing them, started talking amongst each other, some in suggestive tones. There were five of them, and all of them were taller than both Clarke and Octavia. They were built well, too. Clarke’s stomach knotted.

When the groups met, the men seemed like they were just going to pass the girls. However, at the last second, the shortest one jumped in front of the girls and stopped them, giving them a chilling smile. “Where are you girls headed?”

“None of your business,” Octavia practically growled.

He laughed. “Well, that’s a lot of spunk for such a cutie.”

His friends chuckled, and one of them said “Jack, stop,” but the tone he used had no malice or warning behind it. Everyone was still for a moment. Even the birds stopped chirping.

Octavia and the creep, Jack, moved simultaneously. He reached out to grab Clarke just as Octavia pulled her sword out and stuck the end of the blade right under his neck threateningly.

“Remove your hand from my friend or you die,” Octavia said lowly.

The man slowly released his grip from Clarke and raised his hands into the air in surrender. “Alright,” he said calmly, “I’ll just—“

Everything happened in a blur. The man struck Octavia in the face and she fell to the ground from the force of it. Clarke slashed one dagger across his arm and stuck the other one directly into his chest, making him fall to the ground, unmoving. His friends charged at them, but at that point Octavia had risen from the ground and unsheathed her sword. She sliced one man’s head clean off before moving on to the next, slashing his leg and stabbing him in the stomach. Clarke took care of another, dodging his fists and sticking a dagger right into his chest as Octavia finished off the last man.

The girls stood there, keeled over and panting for a few minutes. When they finally caught their breaths, Octavia offered Clarke her hand, which she high-fived.

“We’re fucking badass,” Octavia said, smiling at Clarke. She smiled back.

By the end of the day, they reached Pittsburgh.

•••

At the outskirts of the rundown city, Octavia stopped Clarke.

“We have to be careful in there,” she explained. “There’s tons of communities in big cities, and they all like to have wars from time to time. It gets pretty chaotic.”

“I know,” Clarke said, “I was near Columbus a few months ago.”

Octavia nodded. “Let’s go.”

They trudged down a grassy hill and Clarke saw battered skyscrapers and dead plants everywhere. She had flashbacks to the zombie apocalypse shows she used to watch. This was exactly what they had looked like.

“I know you think your brother’s going to be here, but what if he isn’t?” Clarke asked softly, in case Octavia exploded.

“He’s here,” she replied lowly.

“Okay, listen,” Clarke said. Octavia stopped and turned to her. “I’ve trusted you the whole time we’ve been walking here, but you still haven’t told me anything about your brother or why you’re so sure he’s here. Please, just throw me a bone.”

Octavia stood, contemplating. She turned and began to walk, motioning for Clarke to follow. Then she began. “Bellamy’s my half-brother. We had different dads. His dad left before I was born, and my dad left when I was three. Our mom struggled with money for a while, so she ended up getting mixed up in some bad stuff. She only did it so she could save up enough money to send Bell to college, and eventually, me. But long story short, she was shot and killed because of what she got into.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said softly.

“It’s okay,” Octavia responded. “It’s been a while. I was eleven then, and Bellamy was eighteen. He raised me from then on, through all the mood swings and puberty and boys and everything. He wasn’t just my father figure, but my mother figure, too.

“Eventually, though, when I got older, we started fighting a lot. He was getting more stressed because he was trying to figure out how he was going to raise the money to send me to college, while I was just being a teenager and arguing every chance I got. I had a lot of built-up anger back then, and I focused all of it on him. I was pretty terrible. I took him for granted.

“When I turned eighteen, I’d been saving up enough money to move out. On my birthday, I packed my stuff and left him a note that said not to come looking for me. Then I just left. All the way to Florida. I never told him where I went.”

Clarke took that moment to interrupt. “So that’s why you’re so sure he’s here,” she said. “He wouldn’t have left to go look for you because he had no idea where you were.”

“He would’ve known I’d come for him,” Octavia muttered, smiling slightly.

“Anyway, after a month I decided I was a huge piece of shit and that I missed my big brother more than I’d ever missed anything else. I wanted to go home. I had my plane ticket bought and everything. But that’s when the overthrow happened.

“For a few months, I stayed in my house. Some people were running around like mad, but most of them did what I did. Once the power turned off, though, I left. It’s taken me months to get here, and a lot of paper-map reading, which was a first, but I’m finally here. I’m going to see him again.”

There was a pause.

“That’s kind of beautiful,” Clarke said. At the glare Octavia shot at her, she added, “or whatever.”

Octavia led Clarke for about half an hour before they found trouble. A group of men and women, four in total, was armed with automatic rifles and walking down the road towards them. The girls ducked into a little shop right off the street and waited silently as the group walked by. They heard laughing and chattering; their voices were happy. Clarke suddenly had the terrifying idea to expose herself to the group and ask them to take her wherever they lived. She hadn’t been happy for over a month now. She hadn’t had friends other than Octavia, either. The longing for genuine human interaction temporarily overwhelmed her.

Just as soon as the thought appeared, Clarke shoved it back down. Of course she wouldn’t expose herself—those people would probably mow her down in an instant, which she didn’t really care about, but that meant they would mow Octavia down, too. Clarke wasn’t too keen about that.

It didn’t matter what she decided, anyway, because at that moment the door to the shop burst open and a medium-skinned man with scruff and a beanie on his head stomped in, immediately taking in the sight of the two girls.

Without saying anything to either of them, he stuck his head back out through the door. “There’s two girls in here. I told you!”

As he walked closer to Clarke and Octavia and aimed his gun at them, a woman’s voice called sarcastically, “We get it Miller, you’re cool.”

The source of the voice popped through the door. She was small, pale, and blonde, with a wide nose and big teeth. She was smiling at the man, Miller, and he scowled and flicked her on the shoulder.

She turned to Clarke and Octavia.

“What brings you two to a shithole like this?” she asked, face serious and arms crossed.

“What, you hitting on us?” Octavia retorted.

The blonde girl cracked a smile. “Nah, just making small talk.”

“Will you hurry the hell up in there?” another female voice called from outside, but it was sharper and more articulate. “Being lookout is the guards’ job. I need to get home to change the rover’s oil and fix one of the solar panels.”

“What should we do?” Miller asked the blonde girl, trying and failing to be quiet.

“I don’t know,” the girl responded, peering closely at Octavia and Clarke. “We never see outsiders without neck markings. They could be from anywhere.”

“Maybe we should take them in,” a younger-looking boy said suddenly, his pale head and shaggy brown hair popping through the doorframe. He eyed Clarke and Octavia. “That one,” he said, pointing at Octavia, “looks like she wants to kill us, but that one,” he pointed at Clarke, “seems normal.”

“Shut up, Jasper,” all three voices said in unison. The excited-puppy look fell off his face and his head left the doorframe.

“Should we kill them?” the blonde girl asked Miller. They really sucked at whispering.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” the sharp voice from outside said. “Jasper, stay out here.”

Then, a woman with dark hair and a beautiful tan face walked in. She carried herself like she knew exactly what she was doing. She glanced at Clarke for a second, then at Octavia. But when her eyes left Octavia, they drew right back. Then, they widened. Her lips parted in surprise. Clarke looked at Octavia, who seemed just as confused as she was.

Then, the dark-haired girl’s mouth closed and she glared at Miller and the blonde. “You guys are fucking stupid,” she said. “That’s Bellamy’s sister.”

•••

The group, which consisted of Miller, the darker man; Jasper, the white boy; Harper, the blonde girl; and Raven, the scary one, led Clarke and Octavia to a huge metal fence which looked practically impenetrable. Clarke gaped.

“Dipole!” Miller yelled upwards.

The gate opened slowly, making a loud creepy noise.

“Dipole?” Clarke asked.

“It changes every week,” Miller explained, shaking his head, “Monty picked it this time. I don’t even know what it means. Probably some nerd thing.”

“Yeah, which probably turns him on,” Harper said to Jasper, who giggled.

“I can hear you assholes,” Miller muttered, rolling his eyes. The slight blush on his cheeks blew his cover.

The six walked forward. To take precautions, Clarke and Octavia had their wrists bound by rope so rough that Clarke knew she was going to have to stay as still as possible so they didn’t leave burns.. Inside of the metal fence was a decently large community. Children walked around, laughing and talking. Adults all seemed to be working on something, whether that be part of the wall, a building, gardens, or other things. Although the grass was still yellow, it was less ugly than it was outside, and plants seemed to be growing everywhere. One kid rode by on a bicycle. A bicycle. Clarke did a double-take.

Seeing Clarke’s and Octavia’s shocked faces, Jasper smiled. “Not bad for the apocalypse, right?” he said.

“All thanks to your brother,” Miller said to Octavia.

“Where is he?” she said, “I need to see him.”

“He’s been notified that you’re here,” Harper said. “We’re supposed to bring you up to his place.”

“Let’s go, then,” Octavia said, nodding at Harper to lead the way.

“Wait, what do we do with her?” Miller asked Harper, referring to Clarke.

They all stared at each other for a moment.

“Oh, for God’s sake, just bring her,” Raven sighed. “If Bellamy doesn’t want her up there, he’ll take care of it.”

Clarke tried not to think about what that meant before she was ushered into a well-made building high enough that a fall would kill her. She tried not to think about that, either.

•••

Bellamy Blake’s stature was the first thing Clarke noticed about him. He stood at an average height, but the way he carried himself and the way the others practically shrank in his presence made him seem like a giant. He had inky hair just like Octavia, but rather than laying nearly flat in loose waves, his hair stood voluminous and curled all over. He had skin multiple shades darker than Octavia’s, but their strong jaws and lean facial structures matched perfectly.

The Blake siblings, upon seeing each other for the first time in several months, latched onto each other in a hug that looked suffocatingly tight. It was so beautiful that Clarke probably would’ve cried had she drank anything in the last eighteen hours. She watched Bellamy’s face twist with emotion until it fell flat again. He pulled back, but neither of them let go of each other’s arms.

“I knew you’d come back,” Bellamy said, gaze fixed on Octavia like she was the only person he could see. His voice was raspy and low.

“I knew you’d be here,” Octavia smiled. Clarke didn’t know Octavia could be so happy. All she had been for the past few days was sharp and determined.

A few moments passed in silence before Miller, standing by the wall with his comrades, coughed. This seemed to snap Bellamy out of his shock, but the glowing look on his face remained.

He took that moment to look at Clarke as if he hadn’t even known she was there until that moment. He looked her up and down. Clarke would be lying if she said it didn’t make her stomach flutter a bit.

Stomach fluttering at some random guy checking her out? This was the apocalypse, not high school. Very different forms of Hell. Clarke mentally scolded herself.

It turned out that he wasn’t checking her out, but sizing her up. Whatever. He was definitely not her type anyway. She’d never liked bad boys. 

“Who are you?” he asked. His face took on a slightly threatening look, and Clarke would be terrified of him if she hadn’t just witnessed him practically melt into a puddle at the sight of his baby sister.

“Clarke,” she responded shortly. She stood tall with her chin jutted out in an attempt to look just as scary.

It didn’t work. “Cool,” he replied, stony-faced, “now what are you doing in my home?”

Before Clarke could think of something snarky to say, Octavia jumped in. “She’s been helping me find you for a couple days. I probably would’ve died of hypothermia had she not given me a jacket. Your people found us out in the city.”

Bellamy rounded on his minions. “You brought a stranger in here?” he asked loudly.

Harper and Jasper jumped. Miller stood tall but his terrified face betrayed him. Raven just rolled her eyes.

“What were we supposed to do, say, ‘Oh, sorry! We can only take your friend. Bye!’” Raven asked rhetorically.

“Yes!” Bellamy exclaimed.

Raven let out a single, dry laugh. “Can I go work on the solar panel now?”

Bellamy looked murderous. “Go.”

Raven left, smiling triumphantly. Clarke wondered why she wasn’t as scared of Bellamy as the others.

Octavia took this moment to speak up again. “Bellamy, please. She’s my friend.”

Bellamy glanced at his sister but fixed his firm stare on Clarke. She tried not to squirm. It was an intimidation tactic, she knew. She wouldn’t crumble. She wouldn’t.

“That’s great,” Bellamy began, “but we don’t take in outsiders. It’s how we keep this place alive and well. Miller, please escort her back out of the gate.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open. Octavia had said it herself—she would’ve died if Clarke hadn’t have helped her. And sure, maybe Clarke didn’t intend to help her at first, but she’d grown to like the girl. How could he just throw her out?

“Bellamy, stop!” Octavia said, surprised. “Did you not hear what I just said? She helped me! I wouldn’t be alive without her!”

“I heard you,” Bellamy said lowly.

Miller stepped forward and reached out to grab Clarke’s arm. She grabbed his instead and twisted it behind his back, trapping one of his legs with hers and locking him in place. When Harper surged forward to help, Clarke snatched the gun from Miller’s holster and pointed it at her, loading it. Everyone in the room stopped.

Jasper started to take a few steps towards Clarke, but Bellamy stopped him. He motioned for Harper to back off, and she did. Then Bellamy himself strode right up to Clarke, so close that the tip of the gun touched his chest. He knew she wasn’t going to shoot him. Octavia had just gotten her brother back, and if Clarke cared about her at all, she wouldn’t dare hurt him.

He stared right into her eyes as Miller squirmed, trying to get out of Clarke’s hold.

“Let him go,” Bellamy said, but it wasn’t threatening. It was rough, but soft at the same time. It confused her.

Clarke obeyed. Miller stumbled over to where the others were standing, and Harper steadied him behind Bellamy, whose large body was taking up all of Clarke’s vision. She saw the hard muscle through his shirt, and she tried so hard not to stare. So damn hard.

Clarke and Bellamy held eye contact for several moments before he spoke.

“Welcome to Arkadia,” he said, smirking ever-so-slightly. She felt exposed, as if he was looking straight into her. “You have a week before I kick you out. Prove yourself useful.”

With that, he walked out of the room, his minions following him. Only Clarke and Octavia remained. Octavia’s eyes shone, and she vigorously wiped them while Clarke pretended not to notice.

“That. . . that wasn’t my brother,” Octavia trailed off.

Clarke stared at her, and when she started to cry again, Clarke joined her. For a long time they held each other in the grey office of someone who was a stranger to them both.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look it only took me a year to write and upload the next chapter!!! 
> 
> anyway i hope u like it! not sure entirely how i feel about it but i like where it’s going so far

The day that the world began to end was a day that Clarke had her own plans. Her boyfriend of four months, Finn, had asked to take her to dinner that evening. Clarke has agreed begrudgingly. She planned to break up with him before they even sat down at a table.

It wasn’t like things were bad, per se, but they weren’t very good, either. Finn was Clarke’s second real boyfriend. He was a nice guy, but frankly, he was boring as hell. He refused to dance with her at homecoming and was really bad at kissing. And since Clarke was at the end of her senior year of high school, good dancing and kissing were the only things she really looked for in her men. Finn had neither.

She was taking a long shower, humming while she scrubbed her head with coconut shampoo. The water was so scalding that she knew no germs could survive it. One glance at her hairy ass legs drew a sigh from her, and she had just begun to shave when she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Clarke?” her dad’s muffled voice called.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice loud so that it would carry through the sound of the shower and make its way through the door.

“I need you to finish up,” he said. “Like, right now.”

Clarke paused. His voice was calm, but there was a trace of something unfamiliar in it. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Just come out,” was the only response she got.

She rinsed the shaving cream off of her leg and turned off the water, stepping out and throwing her pajamas back on. She grabbed her curling iron, held it up like a baseball bat, and stepped out of the bathroom slowly. 

Her father wasn’t waiting there anymore, but she could hear the TV on. Slowly, Clarke crept downstairs towards the living room. Her father sat on the edge of the couch, his leg shaking. Clarke’s hands dropped to her sides in relief.

“Dad? Is everything okay?” Clarke asked hesitantly.

He spun around, and his eyes landed on her hand. “Why do you have a curling iron?”

Clarke sighed, putting the iron down on the nearest side table. “You scared me. I thought there was an intruder or something.”

“No,” Jake Griffin said, his eyes lowering as he gestured to the TV. “Much worse.”

On the huge, flat-screen TV that Clarke had been doing yoga in front of a mere three hours ago, a local news station was showing footage of what seemed to be a riot in the streets of a big city. The headline read “President Declares US Bankruptcy.”

“US bankruptcy?” Clarke asked, turning to her dad. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Jake shook his head, his eyes still glued to the screen. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t know.”

Clarke swore she couldn’t remember a single time in her eighteen years that her father had not known the answer.

•••

With sweat dripping down her forehead and a head full of pent-up frustration, Clarke planted her last melon seed of the day. It hadn’t seemed like it was going to be hard work when the head farmer/resident tech geek Monty had explained the job to her, but in order to grow as many crops as possible, Clarke had had to measure out a very precise distance between each seed she planted. Her back fucking hurt, and when she tried to stretch it out, she dropped her shovel right onto the bucket of watermelon seeds she was supposed to plant the next day.

Clarke was sure Monty had never heard words quite as foul as the ones that left her mouth.

After four days, she had tried every job they put her in. She was a horrible mechanic (Raven had thrown her out of her workshop after thirty minutes), she only had very basic medical knowledge (not like they needed it in their little utopia anyway), and she flat-out refused to chop up dead animals for a living. She couldn’t even garden correctly. Not to mention her little slip-up during guard training on her first day as a citizen of Arkadia.

Bellamy had requested for Clarke to be trained as a guard alongside Octavia, who already knew that was what she wanted to do. Clarke objected upon first hearing this, but Miller said Bellamy had insisted, and so she found herself in a room with him and Octavia early in the morning. The room had some makeshift workout equipment, a homemade fighting ring, and some punching bags. There was a closet full of guns that the girls had only just glanced at when Miller said “Don’t get too far ahead of yourselves, ladies. Let’s see what you got first.”

Miller led them in several hand-to-hand combat exercises, where both girls excelled, of course. He seemed pretty impressed, which gave Clarke a small sense of pride. She immediately pushed it away. 

When it was time to fight Miller, he put on layers of protective padding and handed them each their own blades. Clarke’s was heavy, and felt much like her own. It was a small comfort.

Octavia went first. She, unsurprisingly, did well. As she stepped out of the ring, she smiled at Clarke and clapped her on the back.

Clarke ducked into the ring and looked at Miller. He looked at her, smiling dangerously. “Bring it on, Blondie.”

And that one word, that harmless nickname, brought on a tsunami that broke down what was left of the dam in her mind. She had spent months building it, and though it was never quite secure, she built and built. She mended each and every crack, one by one, every single day to keep it from shattering like glass. And that one stupid fucking word destroyed everything.

Clarke didn’t remember what happened after that. She just remembered finding a tree on the edge of the ginormous walls that held her in that fucking utopia and sitting underneath it, crying and sobbing and blowing her nose on some of the leaves. And after she was done with that, she watched a tiny little stream run until it got so dark that she couldn’t hear all the voices and laughter anymore. At some point, she fell asleep. And it was the morning after that Raven found her and took her to her workshop. Which, obviously, didn’t go well.

In the evening of her fourth day, during which she had spent an hour collecting the seeds she dropped, Clarke met Octavia in the cafeteria for dinner. Octavia was telling Clarke about how much she loved guard training. She hadn’t asked Clarke about what happened that day, and Clarke was grateful. She didn’t want to hear the words come out of her mouth. She wasn’t even sure if she could speak them.

Octavia continued marveling about the techniques Miller was teaching her, and Clarke tried to listen, but she could only focus on the fact that she was going to get kicked out in a few days if she didn’t get her act together. She had to find something she could contribute. Her life depended on it.

“Clarke?” Octavia asked, raising her sharp eyebrows. “Hello?”

Clarke snapped out of her stupor. “Sorry. Just got distracted. Keep going.”

Octavia paused to look at her. “How was farming?”

Clarke kept her eyes on her food and snorted.

“Are you trying to get kicked out of here?” Octavia asked.

Clarke glared at her. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that you’re a damn good fighter, especially with a knife. So why aren’t you training to be a guard?”

Clarke clenched her jaw.

“I’m serious, Clarke,” Octavia said gently. “What happened that morning?”

Clarke was silent for a moment while she debated telling the truth, but she had only known Octavia for less than a week. She liked her, of course, but she had issues. The kind that you don’t spring on people you’ve only just met.

So instead of answering the question, Clarke said, “I want to be here, Octavia. I do. But I can’t be a guard. It’s just not something I can do.”

Octavia sighed, aware that Clarke was holding back, but she relented.

“Here,” Clarke said, pushing her tray over to Octavia. “You can have the rest of my rations. I’m going to bed.”

And before Octavia could object, Clarke stood and left the room.

•••

Of all the jobs, Clarke knew farming was the least horrible, so she decided to head out to the garden early the next day to get some extra work done as an apology to Monty. She grabbed her bucket of melon seeds and began planting them one-by-one again, measuring the exact distance between them. To be honest, she hated it even more than she had the day before.

Clarke had been out in the garden for half an hour when the first bits of light started to peak out over the horizon. She was covering a seed with soil and packing it in when she heard a voice from behind her.

“You really are shit at this, huh?”

Clarke whipped her head around to see Bellamy standing above her.

“Excuse me?” she replied.

“Those seeds are much too close together for the melons to grow properly,” Bellamy said, his arms crossed and his face blank.

Clarke stood to look him in the eyes, and was startled again at how large he was. She hadn’t seen him since that very first day, when she had shown up with Octavia.

“Monty said to put them three inches apart,” she said firmly, crossing her own arms.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, walking away, and Clarke followed right behind him. “Well, I’ll be sure to put you in the children’s math class so you can learn how long three inches is.”

“I’m sure they could just use your dick for reference.”

Bellamy stopped, and Clarke nearly ran into him. For a second, she thought maybe he was going to kick her out right then and there for saying that. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

But when he turned around, he was visibly trying to suppress a smile. Clarke just stared him down.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, turning on his heel and continuing to walk. Clarke fell into step beside him. She realized they were walking through the children’s center, and there were already kids playing on the run-down playground equipment. Laughter was something Clarke still hadn’t gotten used to after five days.

“What is it?” she asked, still looking around.

“I’ve heard you’re terrible at everything,” Bellamy said.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that—“

“However, I have noticed one thing you’re good at.”

Clarke looked at him in shock. “You have?”

Bellamy smirked again. “In her report, Raven said—or rather, shouted—that you handed her the wrong tool.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yeah. How the hell am I supposed to know what a ‘split beam torque wrench’ is?”

“However, she also told me that for the thirty minutes you were there before that, you made great conversation. Which, I gotta say, is hard to do with Raven.”

Clarke paused. She hadn’t really thought about that part of her time in the workshop because she was so focused on how angry Raven was over a fucking wrench.

“Monty told me yesterday that although you complain a lot and have the ‘mouth of a sailor,’ you were very kind and listened well when he gave you his instructions. And you even adapted and created your own strategy to plant as many seeds as possible in as little time possible.”

Clarke stared at him. “I guess so.”

“And Miller told me about what happened at guard training,” Bellamy began.

Clarke looked away. “Great.”

Bellamy paused. “He said you have very advanced techniques. You gained his respect. And though I do think you’d be a decent guard, I know that’s not an option for you.”

Clarke watched him. “So, what are you trying to say?”

Bellamy stopped walking and looked at her. “You’ve been here for less than a week and you already have better relationships with my people than I do.”

Clarke stayed silent.

“I rule by fear,” Bellamy continued, “and although it’s effective, it can be tough for me to get through to them. And if you ask me, it’s impossible to rule by both fear and love at the same time.”

He stopped in the middle of the clearing. Birds flew overhead, and Clarke saw several young women carrying buckets of water on their heads, giggling. The laughter never seemed to stop.

“Unless more than one person is ruling.”

Clarke’s jaw fell open. She stared at him silently.

“I’m not royalty,” Bellamy said, “but I am the person they look toward when they need direction. I wanted to ask Octavia, but she’s a warrior, not a leader. I need another leader to keep the balance.”

Bellamy paused. He was waiting for Clarke to say something.

Gaining her voice back, she uttered, “Why are you asking me this? I thought you hated me.”

Bellamy’s face stayed blank. “Octavia wants you here. I just got her back, and I won’t lose her again. Not over you.”

Well, at least he was honest.

“So?” he asked, arms crossed and brows raised. “Are you in, or what?”

Clarke stopped. She had never been a leader in her life, except for the year she was president of Biology club at her high school. That really didn’t even count, though, because there were a total of seven people in the club.

But when she looked back up at Bellamy, she knew he saw something in her, even if he wouldn’t explicitly say those words. She knew he wasn’t stupid, and he wouldn’t have asked just anyone to help him keep things in order. So, she surprised herself with her answer.

“Let’s do it.”


End file.
